


Solace

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, canon character death, plotty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Darcy's best friends died, the other was locked away in a glass box like a hamster, and she really just wanted a hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

The door opened. “You missed the briefing,” came the gentle rebuke.

Darcy looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of Phil's desk, picking at the faded green nail polish on her left thumbnail. Her eyes felt heavy, swollen, she knew she probably looked a mess. Normally she made sure she looked her best around him, but right now... Right now she just couldn't bring herself to care. “I heard it. It got a bit loud out there.” Mack hadn't been happy, that much was fairly clear. Poor Skye, stuck there but not really able to be a part of it.

He nodded, closing the door to his office and standing there, his gray eyes slightly concerned as he took her in. “I'm going to have to discipline you for it.”

“God, Phil, I don't fucking care!” Her yelled words cut sharply through the still air in his office, making her wince. She didn't apologize, though, just sat on his desk and stared at him, as if daring him to do something about it.

He undid the button holding his suit jacket together and reached up to loosen his tie, keeping his eyes on her. “Do you want to take some time off?”

“Time off? You're shitting me, right?” Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “One of my best friends fucking _died_ , the other one is locked in a glass box like a fucking hamster or something, and you're asking if I want to _leave_?” She couldn't stop the fresh well of hot tears that spilled from her eyes, tracking silent paths down her cheeks. “I know you want to pretend nothing happened between us. That's fine. Whatever. But I what I want right now, more than anything in the whole goddamn world, is a hug.” Her voice broke on the last word.

She didn't know why she'd come to his office anyway, maybe it was because it was the one place on the entire base that felt  _safe_ , as ridiculous as that was. But it had been a stupid idea, that much was obvious. She needed to be away from him and the room that was unquestionably  _his_ . 

Shaking her head again, Darcy slid down from the desk to land on her feet. Phil was a dark blur by the door through her tears as she made her way across the room, intent on pushing past him. Where? Didn't matter. Maybe she could go outside and get some fresh air or something. Raid Hunter's stash of beer in the fridge, get shit-faced, yell at the sky. Pretend someone cared.

The dark blur was between her and the doorknob, though, and she brushed the tears away with her knuckles so that she could focus on him. “Move, Phil.” Any other time she wouldn't have spoken to him like that. Whether or not they'd spent some intimate time together in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin a few years ago, he was still her  _boss_ . But she was directly out of fucks to give.

His hands came out, wrapping around her upper arms and pulling her against him. He pressed her head down against his shoulder before his arms settled around her back, holding her close. 

That was not the reaction she'd expected, and it took a second of standing there stiffly before she let herself relax against him. The tears continued to fall, wetting his crisp shirt, but he didn't seem to mind. One hand pushed through her hair, the other held her to him. She slipped her hands around him, sliding under the dark suit jacket to close into fists in the back of his shirt.

Phil still smelled the same as he had that day in Wisconsin, just the faintest hint of aftershave mixed with something she couldn't place, something warm and comforting. She wrapped herself in that smell, conjuring up images of the county fair, of the beer and cotton candy they'd shared in the fall sunshine. That time seemed so far away, but it was infinitely happier than the present.

His lips moved over her hair, she heard him take in a deep breath through his nose like he was remembering the smell of her shampoo.

Darcy lifted her head to look at him, and there was a slight, sad smile on his face. She leaned up until her lips, wet with her tears, were against his.

His fingers closed in her hair, the hand on her back pressed against her, but he didn't pull away. No, he seemed just as ready to get lost in memories of more pleasant times as she was. His mouth opened, his tongue coming out to flick at her lips until she opened for him.

She tasted the salt of her tears in his mouth, licked it away. When she sucked on his tongue, she could feel the change come over them. What had been comforting, gentle, became something desperate, needy. They fed at each other's mouths, her hands coming around to rest on his chest for just a second before she pushed the suit jacket off.

His arms fell away from her, letting the jacket fall on the floor where they stood. As soon as it was gone, her fingers were finding the buttons on his shirt, pulling them open one by one. She let out a little growl of frustration as it seemed to take forever, but at last the shirt was open, and she pulled the undershirt underneath out from where it was tucked into his trousers.

Darcy heard him hit the doorknob, fumbling at it for a second before the latch clicked over, locking the door behind them. His head lifted away from hers, and she opened her eyes to see that he was pulling the undershirt off, his gray eyes dark with a need that matched her own.

Their chance meeting at that county fair had ended up with him fingering her to a pretty fantastic orgasm while she'd sucked him off in Lola's leather seats, but she hadn't actually seen him less-than-dressed. She took the opportunity to look at him now, taking in the dark hair scattered across his chest, the scar from where Loki had stabbed him.

She wanted to linger there, to bend down and kiss it, but he was already reaching for her again, pushing off her own sweater. The t-shirt underneath went after it, and his mouth fell against her breasts, laying hungry kisses along the exposed skin as she reached up behind herself to unclasp her bra.

Phil let out a low groan as her breasts popped free and the bra fell to the floor. “Darcy, I've dreamed of this,” he said, hands coming up to cup her breasts. “When I felt like I was going out of my mind, that alien map in my head, I would think of you, of doing this...” He plucked at her nipples, gently at first but then increasing in pressure until her head fell back, eyes closing as she let out a soft sigh. She'd always been a little in love with Phil's hands. They weren't large hands, but they were  _capable_ , his fingers blunt and surprisingly dextrous. His mouth moved over her pale skin as he pinched and caressed, every deft move sending a jolt of heat between her legs.

One hand fell to her lower back, and he was urging her backwards, busy at the zipper at the back of her skirt. They paused as it fell, Darcy stepped out of it before they continued on until she felt the press of his desk against the backs of her thighs. Her hands fell to his waist, to the belt and the buttons underneath. Her fingers felt thick, slow, and didn't seem to do what she wanted them to. “Phil,” she whispered, half-pleading.

He straightened away from her and took over, making quick work of his trousers. She got her own tights and panties off, stepped out of her flats and kicked the clothes and shoes out of the way while he finished undressing himself. Her lip caught between her teeth as she sat back on the edge of the desk.

Her eyes landed on his erection, not terribly long but thick enough to promise a delicious stretch. She'd seen  _that_ part of him before, and her hand came out, wrapping around him. “I need you inside me.”

Phil stepped into her, let her line up his cock with her entrance before easing himself inside. She wasn't as wet as she could have been, and he had to withdraw and push back in a couple of times, going deeper with each stroke, before he was seated fully inside her.

His hands were on the desk beside her hips, one of her arms was up around the back of his neck, and they started to move against each other like they were looking to escape. Darcy was trying to leave her grief behind, but she knew he had his own demons to run from that had him seeking solace in her body.

Her hand slipped down between them, fingers swirling a fast circle over her clit. Every time his cock thrust deep inside her, it pushed the pain just a little further away, and she chased that feeling, bucking her hips against him.

His office filled with the sounds of skin against skin, of whispers and sighs and stifled moans. Her fingers circled faster and faster, seeking the ultimate high, the one moment that would bring nothing but ecstasy, even if it was only for a few seconds. It seemed so close, closer, but just out of reach until he murmured, “Let go, Darcy.”

Her orgasm crashed around her like falling through a window, lips opened wide in a silent scream as heat flooded through her body. She could hear him grunt, the rhythmic squeeze of her pussy making him stutter against her until he was buried deep, his cock pulsing with his own release.

One hand came up behind her back, holding her as he lowered his forehead to press against hers. Their breath mingled as they panted for air. Darcy didn't speak, not wanting to break the peace that had fallen over them, however temporary.

Unfortunately, though, reality pressed in anyway. His desk was actually pretty uncomfortable under her, and there was an insistent knock at the door.

“Director?” It was Jemma's voice, muffled behind the thick door.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “I'm finishing up with Agent Lewis, I'll be just a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” She sounded a little confused, but there was a silence after that.

The expression on his face was somewhat pained as she reached up and rested her palm against his cheek. “Duty calls,” he quipped, sounding a little reluctant.

Darcy nodded, head tilted to the side as she looked up at him. She felt... Comforted. Her grief, her frustration, it wasn't gone. It was more bearable, though, at least a little. “Please don't tell me you're sorry,” she whispered.

“I'm not.” His hand pressed over her own. “I don't know what this means, if anything, but I'm not sorry.” His gray eyes scanned hers. “Can we talk about this later? Tonight, maybe?”

She nodded, and he slipped away from her, offering a hand to help her to her feet. “You know where I live.” She let him help her off the desk. The hard surface pulled a little uncomfortably at her skin, but she cherished the feeling. It had been worth it.

Phil leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss, surprising her. “I do. I'll bring you something to eat.” And then he turned away to find his clothes, and Darcy started getting herself dressed.

Jemma was still in the hall when she unlocked the door and opened it, but gave no indication that she knew that Darcy had just fucked her boss on his desk.

Darcy offered a shaky smile before heading off down the hall towards where Skye was no doubt restless and frustrated in her cage. She'd be able to face her friend without bringing any additional burdens to lay at her feet, that was important.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Delicate, by Damien Rice.  
> DAMIEN RICE IS MY FAVORITE TO ANGST TO.


End file.
